


Foreign Customs

by Marquise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Cultural Differences, Fic Exchange, Multi, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Sexual Experimentation, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oberyn invites Willas to come to Dorne and meet Ellaria. And when in Dorne...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foreign Customs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady Grey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lady+Grey).



> Written for the ASOIAF Kink for Kink Exchange.

He was sure his lord father would not be pleased if he ever found out his heir was heading to Dorne, but no one could ever accuse Lord Mace Tyrell of being observant.

Besides, Willas had been trapped up in Highgarden for far too long.

Not that it didn’t have its distractions. He has his books and his hawks, constant amusement for his mind. He had the visitors he was obliged to attend to in his father’s absence and while some of them were polite enough and a few even made for good company, he could always see the pity in their eyes. They never articulated it, maybe never even knew it was there, but he had become well attuned to spotting it. A man crippled in battle could elicit admiration and he knew that if that were the case, he would be regaling his guests with the story until he was in his grave. But a beardless boy crippled in a tourney, in his first tourney, in an accident…nothing was ever said and the way they pointedly avoided staring made the cut worse.

The whole story was most likely well-known in Dorne as well. He knew it must be. But at least there he would not have to deal with speaking to men he had seen a thousand times before and never once having them look him in the eye.

And he knew the man who wrote him the invitation would not only look him in the eye when he greeted him with a smile, but that there would be no trace of pity there.

 

He had been prepared for the dry heat, but the feel of sweat running down the back of his neck was still unpleasant. As they reached their destination, he reached up to wipe his brow and shield his eyes for a better view of Sunspear.

The towers made for a majestic sight, and one so unlike Highgarden that he was frozen—just a bit—by the sense of amazement and wonder that comes with experiencing something so unlike one’s previous surroundings. But it wasn’t just the sights that amazed him; he had been overloaded with a full sensory experience ever since they entered Dorne. The smell of citrus and spice lingered in the warm air, giving the land an aroma that was quite unlike the roses of the Reach. The colors seemed magnified a thousand times, the silks that seemed to be draped over everything richer and more vivid in hue than he ever thought possible. Everything in the feel of this land made him feel light and heady, almost as though he had drunk too much wine. He could see where the sensual flair of Oberyn’s letters came from.

And when the servants brought him to meet that man, the air of decadence only increased.

He was in some sort of reception hall, only one that was scattered with pillows and silks and looked more like an extravagant brothel. On one end of the room was a wall of doors, left open in order to catch some snatch of breeze; beyond, Willas could see fountains and hear the low buzz of the desert life.

Oberyn was dressed in orange silk, looking as handsome and languid as the last time Willas had seen him, at some piddling tourney in the Riverlands. He greeted Willas with a laugh and a kiss on the cheek, and Willas noted, with a degree of pleasure that was somewhat embarrassing, the way he held his gaze and didn’t flinch away from his cane.

“Ellaria Sand,” Oberyn said, by way of introduction, gesturing to a woman lying on a pile of pillows behind him. “My paramour.”

She was dressed in flowing red silks as sheer as they were rich. Her braided dark hair was done up in an elaborate style, fastened with gold and jewels, and her eyes had the same sensual flair he had come to associate with all of Dorne. She was not a terribly beautiful woman, Willas thought, but she held herself with an air of confidence that made all the difference in the world. And there was something in those eyes, fixed and hungry, that held the gaze more than a finely-cut cheek ever could.

When Oberyn’s gaze turned to her she rose, but kept her eyes intently fixed on Willas. With soft footsteps—her feet, Willas saw, were dressed in silk sippers, with gold bands wrapped around her ankles—she made her way to her lover’s side and slipped a hand into the crock of his arm. The, with a coy smile and without saying a word, she leaned forward to kiss Willas on the lips.

She tasted of spice and wine, of the heavy flavors of Dorne. Her lips were soft and inviting and, after a momentary pause brought on my confusion, Willas found himself falling into the kiss. It wasn’t a kiss of hello, there was something deeper there, as though she was testing for something.

When Ellaria pulled back she studied him intently, as though trying to gain some knowledge that she missed in the kiss. Willas looked at Oberyn, and was startled by the almost serene expression on his face. _What were you expecting?_ he asked himself. _The Dornish are much more open._ Oberyn kept a hand on his lover’s lower back, rubbing gently, and seemed to be waiting for her reaction.

“I approve,” she said all at once, fixing Willas with a smile that seemed to light up the room and sent shivers down his back.

And that seemed to be all that was needed for Oberyn. He laughed and kissed her warmly, as deeply as she kissed Willas, then moved toward the table to fill three goblets full of Dornish red.

“Approve of what?” Willas asked, feeling conspicuous in the Dornish woman’s stare.

“As a partner,” she said, as if it were the most common thing in the world.

“You don’t think I would invite someone into our bed without her consent?” Oberyn asked, taking a sip and holding out a goblet for Ellaria.

“A part… _what_?” Willas gripped his cane tightly. Their words were more confusing than they were alarming to him, and he found himself going back over the letter’s contents, searching for something that would have indicated they wanted him as a bed-mate.

“Is it so surprising?” Oberyn said, his lips against the goblet. “I thought I was perfectly clear.”

 _Come to Dorne, relax, and meet Ellaria._ That had been the general message of the letter. Willas tried to remember a specific phrase that stood out, that could have indicated Oberyn’s intent, but he was having difficulty remembering the letter’s exact contents. But then, as clear as day, it hit him. _There is an experience we are eager to share. We hope you will agree to share it with us._

He could feel a blush rise in his cheeks and fought to keep it down. It was brought on more by the embarrassment of failing to see the intent of that phrase as it was anything else. _You know his nature, what do you think he would ask? Are you really so innocent in the ways of the world?_ He looked at the couple, at Oberyn carefully studying his expression, at Ellaria reclining on her pillows again and waiting for the confirmation that yes, he would give them this. He swallowed, and took the goblet from Oberyn’s other hand.

“No, I see it now,” Willas said, taking a large gulp of Dornish Red to calm his nerves.

Oberyn arched an eyebrow. “Forgive me if I caused you any distress, friend. That was not the intent, certainly not with the situation at hand. Pleasure should be without stress, don’t you think? That is how we do things in Dorne.”

Willas nodded and looked down at Ellaria. The woman still hadn’t taken her eyes off him. She smiled, and he remembered the taste of her lips. He fought to calm himself.

“You see,” Oberyn went on. “Ellaria and I share everything. But we have only shared women up to this point. Ellaria was eager to expand, and what man denies his loves such things? I thought you would be an ideal candidate for such an experience…”

“And why is that?” Willas asked, his tone betraying his curiosity.

Oberyn’s face grew serious for a moment. “Because it’s not what they expect of you.”

His words hit at the truth of the matter. Willas was not inexperienced with women, but he knew that much came from being a lord’s son, and even then he could feel their pity. There was none of that in this room. When he got back to Highgarden and faced their eyes, he would be able to remember this room and this question.

He smiled at them both and took another sip of wine. He could not articulate his acceptance just yet, but it seemed to be understood.

 

That evening they dined alone, seated on cushions by a table laden with fruit and wine that had been placed in the couple’s bedchamber. They setting sun had cooled Willas considerably, but it hadn’t done much for his nerves. He had no intent of backing out, not when it was so close, but he hoped his inexperience did not make him look too much of a fool. He did not expect them to laugh at him, but still. _Cripples must seemingly work twice as hard at every interaction._

Oberyn was eating a plum slowly and deliberately, and shifting his gaze between his two companions. When his eyes caught Ellaria’s eyes for the last time he gave her a wicked grin, which she returned. Leaning across the pillows, she kissed her lover with an abandonment that caused Willas to stop in mid-bite.

Oberyn broke it by lightly pulling her head back by the hair and biting at her neck until she let out a shuttering moan. He then laid his lips at her ear and whispered something Willas could not quite hear, but that caused her to pull back and, standing, make her way over to him. She reached out a jeweled hand to help him up, her face still wearing that slightly wicked grin.

Willas took a gulp of wine and met her dark eyes. “It’s time?”

She laughed lightly and nodded. “If you still wish to join us.”

He silently allowed himself to be helped to his feet, and she supported him without a word. When they were at eye-level, she leaned into his body and kissed him just as fiercely as she had Oberyn.

He could taste the fruit and the wine on her tongue, mixed with the spicy flavor that had been there before. Without breaking, without preamble, she began to undress him with fingers deft and skilled. Willas was conscious of Oberyn’s gaze, and felt his cock twitch.

Once she had stripped him to the waist Ellaria led him to their bed, a giant piece of ornate design draped in reds and oranges. As she eased him onto the mattress and continued with her work, Willas watched carefully for her reaction when she saw his leg, half gone—but there was none. She saw it, but did not even raise an eyebrow. And that action alone did away with all of his nerves. Feeling bolder than ever, he pulled her on top of him for another kiss.

He heard Oberyn laugh, the tone as warm as the desert sun, and soon he was standing over them. Ellaria rolled away from him, and sprawled on the bed. “He’s eager.”

“I can certainly see that.” He kissed her tenderly, and then swiftly moved to kiss Willas.

Willas had never kissed another man before, but it did not feel quite like what he was expecting—though he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Not as soft as with a woman of course, but certainly not unpleasant. The scratch of stubble was rough, as was the kiss itself, but the taste of his lips was just as sweet as Ellaria’s. When Oberyn pulled back he found himself moaning from the lack of it, and his friend grinned and pressed his lips to his ear as well. _”Relax.”_

“My Prince knows what to do,” Ellaria chimed in, as she began to unwind the silks from her body. Willas caught a view of her breasts, full and well-formed, topped with dark nipples. He felt the blood rush to his cock, and would have felt embarrassed had Oberyn not chosen that moment to wrap his hand around the shaft. Oberyn teased the head with his thumb and Willas felt a strangled moan form in his throat, only to have it cut off by the press of the other man’s body, engulfing him.

He found himself pressed back into the soft bedding, his friend’s lips on his throat, at his collarbone, at his ear. He strained to push himself more into Oberyn’s hand; any doubts he had about being with a man were quickly disappearing in a rush of pleasure. He could feel Oberyn’s cock pressed against his thigh, still trapped in his tightening breeches. With a fumbling hand he reached down to stroke him through the silk, and felt his body jolt as Oberyn shuttered. He pulled back long enough to free himself, and Willas found his own hand quickly enclosed around the other man’s cock. It didn’t feel that much different from his own, but the warmth and utter need that pulsed through Oberyn at that moment was almost enough to send him over the edge.

As if he could read his thoughts, Oberyn suddenly pulled away. Willas almost made some protest, till he saw his friend’s intent: he began to make his way down his body, marking his path with his mouth. Willas stretched out his legs, every nerve in his body tingling in anticipation. And when he felt the first touch of the other man’s tongue on his shaft—savoring, teasing—he arched back and fisted at the sheets.

He could feel more than hear Oberyn’s rich laugh, as it vibrated throughout his body. He seemed too fixated on Willas’ cock to pull back for air, lavishing it with an attention he had never experienced before—nuzzling, licking, taking it almost whole into his mouth. Willas threaded his fingers through the other man’s dark hair, admiring the contrast it made against his pale hands. _If I stay in Dorne long enough, perhaps I will go just as dark,_ he found himself thinking. It wasn’t such an absurd wish—nothing at Highgarden had ever made him feel quite as alive as he did right now.

In that moment he remembered Ellaria, and turned his head to the side. He had hoped, foolishly, for a distraction that would keep him from the edge for just a little while longer; what he got was certainly not that. Ellaria has striped completely, save for the gold chain that hung around her neck, its ornate red pendant settled between her breasts. She was watching Oberyn’s mouth with rapt amazed, one slim hand working between her legs. He was not quite sure he had ever seen such enjoyment on a woman’s face before, and he certainly had not expected to see it now, as her lover pleasured another. _Of course, the Dornish do things differently._

She caught Willas’ eyes on her, and without a word brought the hand that had been between her legs to his lips. He found himself sucking on her fingers greedily, devouring the taste of her desire. The warmth of Oberyn’s mouth and the taste of her fingers were almost too much, and he was both relived and annoyed when Oberyn pulled away from him for good.

His friend smiled down at him and licked his lips in a way that made Willas desirous to kiss them. It was a strange compulsion—he had never been a bold man, but something about these circumstances made him wish to be. He grazed his fingers up Ellaria’s bare thigh, and pondered it just a bit more. _I’ve never been so desired, that’s why._

“How does she taste?”Oberyn asked, stroking himself gently. “Is she wet for us?”

Willas tried to answer, but he could not form the words. He nodded.

“Of course she is,” Oberyn pulled his lover to him and kissed her hungrily. “Best not to deny her cock any longer, we don’t want her to get desperate and take care of things without us.” He curled his fingers under her chin, and looked into her eyes. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

“Certainly.” Without another word she straddled Willas and guided him into her. The warmth was welcome after the absence of Oberyn’s mouth. She was still somewhat tight, even after childbirth, though perhaps that was the skilled flex of her muscles as she worked on him. She leaned down to allow Willas to bury his face in her breasts, and rolled the two of them on their side as she did so. His cock buried deep within her, his mouth working on a smooth nipple and her soft moan in his ear, Willas had never been more aroused.

“How does he feel?” He heard Oberyn rasp. He could feel the press of the other man’s cock against his back, a warm slickness. “He must feel good, he’s so hard for us.”

Willas looked up, anxious to see her answer. Her eyes were half-closed with pleasure, her mouth half open. She nodded vigorously. “So…so _good_ ”

He felt his heart fill with pride. He angled his body as well as he could, trying to fill her more deeply, and was met with a well-satisfied moan for his efforts. He became so lost in the feel of the woman around him, of the heady smell of her perfume and the warmth radiating from her skin, that he almost jumped in surprise at the feel of a slick touch at his entrance. He raised his lips from Ellaria’s neck and craned his head back to catch a glimpse of Oberyn, who brought his oil-slicked fingers up for inspection. After a pause, as he thought it over-- _You’ve gone this far_ \--Willas nodded to show his consent.

The feel of Oberyn’s practiced fingers, opening him in a way that he never had been before, was exhilarating. The other man was well-skilled in these matters, that much was certain, and he was able to work Willas into a state of bliss that he had not anticipated.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Ellaria asked, and then kissed him tenderly. Evidently, no response was necessary.

He lasted a bit longer than he thought he would, but then Oberyn curled his fingers _just so_ and hit a spot that caused a familiar tingle to start at the base of Willas’ spine. Letting out an undignified grunt, he found himself on the brink of the edge; at the last possible moment Oberyn turned his face around and devoured his mouth with a kiss. Willas felt his gasps of pleasure die on the other man’s tongue as he spent himself inside his lover.

After coming down things became a bit of a drowsy blur, his mind clouded by bliss. He knew that, once his shudders had subsided, Oberyn left him in order to busy himself between Ellaria’s legs. He could hear their sighs of pleasure and laughs, and see the way they easily fit together, but he had no desire to join them—no desire to do anything but rest his weary muscles, enjoy the soft bedding, and ride his sense of satisfaction into a much-deserved sleep.

 

He woke up between them, in a tangle of limbs and sheets. He did not know for how long he had slept, but the sun seemed to be setting in the sky—the light had a brilliant golden glow.  
Ellaria was still asleep, her mass of dark hair disheveled and an almost innocent smile on her lips. But when Willas moved to stretch his damaged leg—it was starting to ache in its current position—he felt Oberyn shift behind him and heard his voice in his ear, wide-awake.

“So, are you glad you came?”

Willas began to feel a blush creep up his cheeks, absurd considering what had just happened. “Yes. It was…eye-opening.”

“I’m glad. And your visit has just started.” He laid a kiss to Willas’ collarbone, and Willas felt every nerve in his body tingle.

“Yes, that it has. And…perhaps I could, ah, partake in Dornish customs more often?”

Nothing was said in return, but their lips met, and that was all that was needed.


End file.
